Well, it’s official: Writers’ Community is back in business! After the biggest turnout at a mass meeting of all time EVER, our creative process is again underway in the labyrinth of Mason Hall with workshopping, writerly games, and all-around excellence. Here are a few tastes of our first activity of 2013: group stories, all of which must follow the rule presented at the beginning. Each short story was written by multiple people with sixty seconds each per story, hence the absolute nonsense that ensued.
Every other sentence must contain a color.
“Why so blue?” asked Jefferson, the mailman of whom Stephen appreciated his daily courtesy.
“No reason?” laughed the old man. “Why, you look glummer than a purple plum!”
Glummer? Stephen’s cheeks reddened.
“Ah,” the mailman sighed pensively. “When the trees start sprouting I’ll have plenty of them to look at! What with their beautiful, gorgeous, verdant green leaves, how could one not appreciate nature? I’ll tell you how, because it all turns brown and dies. Just like dirt. Might as well admire dirt.”
“Don’t be so cynical,” she said angrily.
He was about to respond when suddenly a gust of wind blue him away. “Whoa!” she exclaimed.
Write in the style of a Harlequin romance.
Guenivere gazed longingly at Lancelot. He ha originally caught her attention when he bent down to kiss her. Their hands touched. She could feel a static electricity, like when God stretched out his hand to Adam. Such hands. God moisturizes. She was the heir to the family fortune of the people who owned the factory. Soft like velveteen rushing through waterfall fingertips. She brought her hands up to his chest. His heart raced below rippling pectorals. Her chest heaved like the sensuous tides of mid-evening shores. A slow descent to a love they cannot deny, and with a kiss, they were cursed.
Each sentence must start with the next letter in the alphabet.
And we all danced as the city burned. Burned to the ground. Cities, as you know, do not tend to be fireproof. Dirt can serve as an inhibitor, but this city was pristine. Everybody in the city screamed whilst they were burned alive. Fountains of blood rained down upon us. Grotesque bodies filled the city. Hell had come to the earth. It was difficult to see, yet even more difficult to turn away. Joy radiated from the dancing. Karp rained from the sky where the clouds hung low. Light was nonexistent. Meteors were flying. Noises emanated from the skies. Oracles screamed, as if trying to awaken us. Promenades through the apocalypse. Quiet overtook the now desolate city. Resounding quiet was not a sound any sane person would want to hear after the cacophony of the burning. Slowly, people moved from their hiding place.
Every sentence must start with the letter “s.”
Someday I will own a boat. Someone will sell it to me in a blue tee-shirt with pit stains and I will do a little jump when I put the keys in my pocket. Sometimes, I want a jetski as well. Sally, my next door neighbor, often tells me that jetskis are for the weak. Surely, she is wrong. She must be incompetent, for jetskis are for the best… Somewhere in Saudi Arabia, but I don’t know now. Saudi Arabia doesn’t have a lot of oceans, I thought. Sea creatures must hate Saudi Arabia. Sea creatures like me, though, which is why I have so many. Squids, octopuses, turtles, manta rays- you name it.
Every sentence must have the letter “z.”
Armed with a bedazzling gun, she took careful aim and fired. I’m not sure that’s how bedazzlers are supposed to work, so this could quickly become problematic. Zazzles shot out of the end of the gun. She looked at the candy-gum and wished it had a more zesty flavor. She didn’t know what her zany mind was thinking. She paused, puzzled, and began again furiously. She swiped at the wrapper of her zestless gum and continued bedazzling her shirt. However, in her zany madness to decorate she had accidently grabbed a flamethrower. The shirt was ruined, which meant she could not go to Zack’s party. At least she would have time to finish her zebra collage now. “Unless,” she thought, “this might be crazy, but what if I wear the collage to the party?”
You must write in second person future tense
You will try to make a wish in a well. You will fall down the well. You will meet a troll, and his name will be George. He will be quite cruel to you. But having read your fairy tales as a child, you will also know when the time is right how to defeat George. All you will have to do is say three magic words. You will have to go on a quest to find these magic words. The quest will be long and include several unpleasant talking crocodiles and uncrossable streams. If you are lucky, you may find three magic beans. If you are smart, and if you will remember, you will not do anything with them and continue on your way. It is suggested you seek out the magical tree growing in Nimway froest, for at its roots you will find a secret map to the real secret map to the beans to the words. You will be frustrated by the overly complex rule, found in this genre, but you will come to terms with it. You will find the map easily, but it will be blank. You will not be able to read it but you’ll find a wizard who can. The problem will be the wizard only speaks nonsense. You sill be told by the Dungeon Master to go home.
Each sentence should contradict the previous one in some way.
Today I sat in my chair. Upon standing on my chair, I decided that I rather disliked it. I liked it so much that I jumped off, snatched the chair from underneath me, and hurled it across the car. The chair gently landed. Not only had it crashed to the floor, but my lamp had also been smashed. I cradled that lamp in my hands. I hated it to death. Sometimes, I wanted to die. I love live so much; there are many things to do. There is never anything to do on this planet except toss my poodle around with my friends. I have no friends, nor do I have a poodle. Often, I watch movies with my cat, Linus. I’m not sure what color Linus is because I am blind- it is terribly tragic and I often wish I could do things like a normal person does, such as watch a movie.